Yet To Be Realized
by infinitykat
Summary: There is no way of knowing what's going to happen next for Harry Potter, even when Voldemort is gone. Postwar. Oneshot. Song fic. HHr.


**Yet To Be Realized **

**By infinitykat **

**A/N: So, I guess the deal is- this is a one-shot, H/Hr, post-war song fic. Yes. The song is "Those To Come" by The Shins, off Chutes Too Narrow. Listen to it, it'll change your life, I swear. **

**Disclaimer: They aren't mine. But, being delusional, I like to play with them. And if you don't like my ship, please don't review my story just to flame me and tell me I need to re-read or that your ship is "so obvious." Save it. I don't care. Besides, being delusional gives one a sense of freedom in the fandom world. Being tied down to canon can be boring and creatively restrictive. Because my ship will never happen in the books, I can imagine whatever I want here. And, dammit, it feels good.**

_A flash of light, a hysterical shriek, the weight of a friend falling to the ground. She turned, as if in slow motion, to see him lying there in a crumpled heap, motionless. Her heart shot up into her throat and she was blinded for a moment by her tears. But she sucked in a terribly painful breath and turned back to her other friend, grasping his hand and intertwining her fingers in his. _

_He tore his eyes away from his fallen friend. His eyes locked in on their hands. Locked in on her eyes. And understood. He turned back to his foe, wand raised. The brother wands both emitted a vein of magic that twisted together and churned and grew brighter until…_

Hermione shifted, slowly coming into consciousness. She blinked in the morning light and finally opened her eyes completely. The dream still continued in her mind as she looked around the room, gathering her bearings. She felt the arm that was wrapped her waist and remembered.

Remembered what had happened just a few weeks ago. And what had been happening since. Shifting carefully to face him in the bed, Hermione found him still sleeping, brows crinkled in a concerned expression, but still looking rather angelic without his glasses and the weight of the world on his shoulders. She gently brushed back his bangs and kissed his scar - which they thought might disappear, but it didn't – before sliding out of his warmth and into the morning.

_Eyeless in the morning sun you were  
Pale and mild, a modern girl  
Taken with thoughts, still prone to care  
Making tea in your underwear  
You went out in the yard to find  
Something to eat and clear your mind  
Something bad inside me went away_

When Harry finally awoke, he panicked slightly to find Hermione gone. He panicked, then remembered that there was nothing to panic about anymore. Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes, trying to get rid of the emptiness he now felt. Now that the whole thing was over. He had everything in front of him, _anything_ he wanted to do. But right now all he wanted to do was to curl up under these warm sheets and forget.

He was too curious, though, about where she went, so he dragged himself out of bed and put on his glasses and a pair of boxers that were laying conveniently on the floor. Harry wandered through their tiny London garden flat, checking all the places he usually found her until he came upon the kitchen and the small garden beyond it.

Hermione was out there, sitting on the top of the picnic table in her pink bath robe, obviously lost in thought with an abandoned mug of tea and a pile of opened post beside her. She had her back to him, so Harry leaned against the door frame and just watched her for a moment. The emptiness seemed to fill with warmth until she turned around and noticed him watching her. They smiled at each other and Harry, much lighter-footed now, came silently to her and slid an arm around her waist.

"So?" he asked, eyeing the small pile of letters on the table. Hermione looked down and smirked, remembering.

_Anyone we know dead?_

"No news yet," she said quietly, her smirk fading. She always wondered if that kind of statement would ever get Ron in trouble. Now she knew.

"We should visit him today," Harry said softly, recognizing the look in her eyes. Hermione looked up and nodded, her eyes starting to fill with tears, and accepted his gentle kiss.

They arrived that afternoon in front of the grimy shop window and requested entrance from the disheveled mannequin. Once inside, it didn't take long to find Molly, who had answered their owl immediately and was waiting for them by the receptionist's desk. She was not looking very well these days- Percy had recently died in an attack on the ministry and even though he had fallen out with his parents, it took a serious toll on Molly. She greeted them each silently with bone-breaking hugs and led the way to the serious injuries ward.

"We're working round the clock on this," the healer assured them as they gazed down at him. He was still unconscious, his skin pale and his hair vibrant in comparison. Mrs. Weasley stood by the bed, seeming determined to wake him up by stroking his hair. Hermione and Harry stood behind her, Hermione feeling as if moving any closer would bring her to tears.

"And you still don't know if he'll wake up?" Molly asked shakily. The healer nodded.

"We still don't know the exact nature of his condition, but there is a possibility he will wake up, Mrs. Weasley," the healer said, looking over the chart in his hands. Another healer called to him and he began to draw the curtains. "I'll be right back. I think you'd probably appreciate a little alone time." The three nodded their heads, not looking away from Ron. Once the curtain was drawn with a clatter of metal rings, they all became very still, just watching him breathe.

They stayed that way for a long time.

_Quaking leaves and broken light  
Shifting skin, the coming night  
The bearers of all good things arrive  
Climb inside us, twist and cry  
A kiss on your molten eyes  
Myriad lives like blades of grass  
Yet to be realized, bow as they pass_

In the darkness of the bedroom that night, Harry came to rest next to Hermione, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows, swallowing audibly. Hermione sighed, curling up against him and pulling up the sheet to cover them.

It was moments like this that made Hermione start to think about them, about their lives, about Ron. What were they doing here? Had all their time together at school, trusting and helping each other, lead to this? Hermione naturally felt uncomfortable not knowing how their relationship would play out. When Hermione and Ron had dated for a short period during the summer after sixth year, she was completely in control. Everything in their short-lived relationship was predictable – even their break-up. It was a comfortable sort of thing, but the bickering became too much and they both knew it had to end. They – well, at least Hermione – had realized that being together was something everyone else thought was so obvious, why didn't they just give it a go? But it was too easy – it would have ended sooner or later.

But now Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty about what was happening between her and Harry – they were finding this new facet of their relationship while Ron lay, asleep, unable to even know about it. He might even never know about it. Hermione choked on a sob, burying her face in the hollow of Harry's neck.

He cradled her to him, whispering, "What's wrong?"

Hermione pulled her face away enough to ask shakily, "What are we doing here?"

"I…What do you mean?" Harry managed to say at length.

"It's just," Hermione said, wiping her eyes, "For the last few years I knew exactly what was going to happen. I knew we were going to have to battle him. Or, you, rather. But now I just hate not knowing…what's going to happen. Don't you?" Harry stared, wide-eyed, at her for a moment, then nodded his head.

"And what about us?" she continued, "What is this we're doing? Is it just a fling? Comfort, brought on by what we've had to go through? Are you planning to stay with me? Or are you going to go back to Ginny once Ron wakes up and you can face their whole family again?"

Harry was quiet for a moment, surprised at her frankness. But he should have known she wouldn't have skirted around the issue. He thought about it.

_They are cold, still,  
Waiting in the ether to  
Form,_

Harry imagined he and Hermione dating, enjoying meals and Muggle movies together. He saw them reading together in a library, quietly enjoying each other's company and the sweet beginning of a relationship.

_Feel,_

He saw them making love, getting married, living in Grimmauld Place, reading the Daily Prophet.

_Kill,_

Harry saw the look on Ron's face when they told him that they were together. Saw the realization hitting him squarely in his long nose that he truly lost his chance with Hermione.

_Propagate,_

He envisioned Ron moving on, finding a new love in Luna Lovegood. He imagined himself holding a little girl with frizzy black hair and green eyes, learning first-hand how to be a father.

_Only to die._

Harry saw Ron's grave marker, forever asleep next to Percy and the past generations of Weasleys. He saw himself, asleep in waking, Hermione clinging to him, trying to replace some of the life his best friend took away when he crumpled to the ground that fateful day.

And Harry let these possibilities swim through his head and be contradicted and killed and given validity. Then he knew he truly didn't know what was going to become of their lives.

"I don't know," Harry whispered finally. Hermione blinked and two twin tears raced down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs and whispered, with a small smile, "But I do know I love you. And I don't want to go back to Ginny. And I don't want this to just be a fling. You deserve much more than that. Much more, really, than little ol' screwed-up me."

_They are cold, still,  
Waiting in the ether to  
Form,   
Feel,  
Kill,  
Propagate,  
Only to die, _

_Dissolve,  
Magically,  
Absurdly,  
They'll end,   
Leave,  
Dissipate  
Coldly and  
Strangely  
Return._

"I love you, too," Hermione whispered.

**La Fin. **

**Post Note: Review please! And remember, if you're just going to flame me, or try to "enlighten" me, give your poor wrists a rest. You will most likely develop carpal-tunnel with that bad karma.**


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